You Know What?
by FHT3rdandCo
Summary: Breathing is a great plan. I should incorporate it into my life someday. One half hour can change everything and in this case, it will with or without my consent. Fluff. K2.
1. I Feel Like A Dork

_((Disclaimer: so someone else owns it... wait no, I changed my mind. I'm the Matt or Trey or whatever and instead of writing new episodes I've decided to write slash fanfiction._

_...no, not really.))_

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><p><strong>I Feel Like A Dork<br>**

I'm really scared to look at you. Just glimpsing at you affects me so much.

First of all, when I see you, my heart throbs. It hammers against my chest and it makes it hard to breath. It's painful, physically painful.

Second, I feel guilty. I feel like I'm looking at you in an insulting way, I feel gross, I feel like a jerk, and I feel like a dirty-minded pervert. It makes me want to cry, I feel like a horrible person. It hurts me to look at you.

And finally, when I look at you, I'm afraid of what I might do. You make me unpredictable.

When I look at you, my face heats up and I begin to stutter, nervous and anxious.

When I look at you, I want to touch you, to hold you, kiss you, and laugh with you.

When I look at you, I want to scream, shout those words I ache to tell you. To see those shining blue eyes widen and your smile widen, past your orange hood.

You make me into such a dork.

So I won't look at you, no matter how hard it is. I know it's hopeless, I shouldn't even try, so why? Why bother deepening that wonderful pain in my chest.

I'll just ignore it and leave a gaping hole.

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: So this will be a collab fic with Muse. Hope you enjoy it thus far!<em>

_-Muse & Burbs being nerdy))_


	2. Looking At Him

_((Author Notes: Whoot! Chappy 2! Bit of a change in perspective for this chappy.))_

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><p><strong>Looking At Him<br>**

…I hate the way you look at him. I hate thinking that regardless of what I think or feel you're always going to look at him.

I don't want to think about why you look at him or whether or not I'm wrong about my suspicions. I just want you to look at me.

Sometimes I feel like you're looking at me. Sometimes your words put me on cloud nine.

Mostly you just look at him though.

I wouldn't call this feeling jealousy. Jealousy is different, jealousy is almost angry. This emotion is more hopeless, as if I've already given up on you looking at me instead.

So I pull pranks. Call it a runt picking on his crush but it works goddamn it! You turn crimson and look at me. And while you may be angry it's anger at me.

Not anger at that fat bastard.

I'm afraid to think of what your feelings hold. I like to think you… care for me. I like to think we have the same feelings because in some moments everything is perfect and it's as if we completely understand each other. I know it's not true though I just really like to think it's true.

Maybe today you'll blush instead of burn with anger. Maybe today you'll grin and all his taunts will fly over your head. Maybe today I'll take your hand and we'll just run.

Maybe today I'll be with the one you want.

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: x3; Sadly we've kinda decided most of the chapters are going to be this abysmally short. I kinda like how it works as short tidbits xD<br>_

_-Muse being lazy))_


	3. Obviously Going Insane

_((Author Notes: Think I forgot to mention that we intended to change perspective per chapter back and forth from Kyle to Kenny... hope peeps weren't confused x3;))_

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><p><strong>Obviously Going Insane<br>**

I didn't mean to, but I looked at you.

Your eyes were red and sunken in, your face was tired and bruised. You tried to cover it your best by tightening your hood closer to face, engulfing it. But it still didn't escape my eyes.

My need to see making me hypersensitive to every aspect of you when I do look at you, as if making up for the lack of it. I absorb everything I can about you with lightening quick eyes.

The lighting was dark and the mixture of loud music, yelling and video games don't deter you from my vision. I can't stop looking at you. Goddamnit, this is why I stopped, just looking you is intoxicating. You slump tiredly in your chair, limp and exhausted. You look tired, nobody is even looking in your direction, no one is even giving you a simple, 'Dude, you okay?'. You're invisible.

Bruised black and blue, you blue eyes become dark. I swallow a lump in my throat.

I feel a mixture of anger, concern, sorrow, fear, rage, worry, sympathy, and the absolute need to hug you.

Because at that moment I knew you needed one.

And so I did.

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: lawl, x3 I don't think anyone's even reading this fic... aw well, it's fun to write :3<br>_

_-Burbs re-learning the violin))_


	4. Viva La Explosions

_((Author Notes: Bleeeeh... want sleep... no moar skool... ;A; ))_

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><p><strong>Viva La Explosions<br>**

May I begin by saying my world just exploded?

And by exploded I mean everything became perfect magically. Like all of a sudden you knew exactly what I am and I knew exactly what you are and it all just came together in an amazing rainbow of awesome.

And then I remembered that nothings ever perfect and there's no way that you this perfect moment could be actually happened. Then I remembered that I was misunderstanding the situation.

A very big part of me begged to pretend just pretend that I wasn't misunderstanding anything I could really be held by what I wanted more than anything.

I told the beggar that I wasn't a chooser and sunk into a confusion that only comes with being unsure how to respond to a situation.

Before I couldn't investigate my thoughts were derailed by the sound of the one that you did look at.

"What the fuck, Jewfag?"

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: Wh00t! Fail cliffhanger!<em>

_...on a side note, is it just me or does writing Cartman's dialogue irritate anyone else? x3; I dunno, I just despise writing racist/anti-Semitic/bigot... etc shit just on principle. So writing Cartman's vocab is always kinda hard for meh ;A;_

_-Muse falling asleep.))_


	5. Everything About You

_((Author Notes: x3; too much homework, too little time ;A; I hate finals.))_

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><p><strong>Everything About You<strong>

My heart attempted to leap out of my chest at the fat bastards words. All of a sudden the reality of what I'd just been doing crashed down on me like a ton of bricks.

I was hugging you. God damn it all. Why do you always make me do things like this, make me do things that I would never normally, just for you. The fucking bastard was looking at me like he was about to gag on something rancid, and for a moment all I could do was hate him.

Why did he have to make me snap away from heaven? Why did he always have to be such a fucking asshole to me twenty-four seven? I start shaking as I hold you, but I still refused to let go.

I never want to let you go. Every time we occasionally touch I never want the moment to end, I never want you to go away. All the time I just want you right here, in my arms, and nowhere else.

I feel horrible for my possessive thoughts. I don't own you, I know that, but I can't help the feeling that wells up within my chest of wanting you, all of you.

I almost rip myself out of the hold, but then I remember the bruises.

Screw it. I've already broke one promise to myself, why not break the whole nine yards? Fine. I'm not letting you out of my care until I can treat you.

You begin to open you mouth to say something, as you weakly try to pull away. Oh, no you don't. Now I'm fucking pissed and there's no way you're getting away till I'm fucking finished with you.

"Shut the fuck up Cartman!" I bark at him as I squeeze you tighter, "I don't have time for your fucking homophobic, anti-Semitic bullshit today you giant tub of lard!" He looks like he's about to retort, but really, I'm not going to take his shit today. This is going to be a one-sided battle. "In fact, I never have time for your shit! So why don't you just fuck off, because god knows you're never going to get some otherwise, you obese son of a bitch!"

With this I pick you up like a sack of potatoes and kick a semi-gaping Cartman out of my way. The fat bitch hates being cut off, and really I'm not going to pull any punches today. I heard him whimper as he tried not to cry like a pansy. Fuck he always cries after I hit him, no matter how many years it's been.

I stalked off to the bathroom, abandoning the rest of the gaping party. I hear Stan trying to call after me but I just ignore him, I have more important things to deal with right now.

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: =3 hooray! Chapter 5! I'm really on a role with this ficcie!<br>_

_-Burbs stressed out.))_


	6. Your Stupid Face

_((Author Notes: Hooray! Some people are finally reviewing! ;A; I was starting to think no one likes this fic at all.))_

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><p><strong>Your Stupid Face<strong>

Okay. Breathe. Don't not breathe. Don't think about how nice his hands feel or the fact that they are touching me. Whens the last time someone touched me at all? Much less without it being malicious? Okay, remember that breathing thing? It's a good idea; don't quit it just because it's hard.

You're carrying me with ease. It's startling, I know I'm not the biggest kid on the block and I probably suffer some quasi anorexic symptoms due to my lifestyle but I didn't think I could be lifted like I weighed nothing, I still at least weigh as much as the average chick and dudes kill their backs trying to carry those bitches.

Maybe it's because it's you, you're kind of on the muscular side… or at least on the stubborn side. I'm sure you could even lift the fatass if you put your mind to it.

...which would be hilarious.

And then all I can feel is your arm holding my waist. It feels ticklish where you're touching me and butterflies are attacking my stomach with a fury that could only come from the desire for sweet revenge.

(I think they have it out for me 'cause I've mocked the concept most of my life)

"Omph!"

Being dumped down unceremoniously isn't one of my favorite things, especially when it takes away ticklish feeling but more so when taking away said arm leads me to have to look into those eyes and those eyes look kinda pissed… if not unreadable.

Breathing. Is. A. Great. Plan. I should incorporate it into my life someday.

Panic surged through me. I have no way of controlling this situation. You're angry and I don't know why, I didn't plan this. This is scary, too scary. I don't know what to do. What can I do to gain control of this situation?

You opened your mouth and I wished desperately I could predict your words.

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: This chapter was actually really fun to write! Prolly since I've had it in mind since the beginning<br>_

_-A far too tired Muse.))_


	7. Obstinate Affection

_((Author Notes: gleh... too much homework.))_

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><p><strong>Obstinate Affection<strong>

The terrified expression made my confidence dip. My heart staggered and I felt stupid. Stupid as in bash my head against a wall stupid. But I had already put myself in this situation, I have no choice but to go through with it.

Go through with what? I'm just checking to see if you're alright.

Sweet Moses, I've probably just freaked the fuck out of you. Randomly hugging you and then carrying you with me to Stan's fucking bathroom with no given explanation. Fuck, I'm so stupid, stupid, stupid,.

I let out a sigh and just suck it up, I need to see if he's okay.

"Take off your hood." I let out in defeat(defeat against what?). You look at me like I'm a bit crazy, but then after awhile you hesitantly bring your gloved fingers to the hood of your parka.

With painful slowness, you take off your hood letting out a shaky and confused, "Okay...?"

I try to breath when I see your face, I really do, but the sight knocks the breath out of me. I rarely ever see your full face, your hair, and your bright blue eyes without the shadow of your hood. But on top of that, the part that made my breath hitch was the bruises and cuts marring your beautiful face.

"I knew it." I said before I could even think about what I should say. But whatever, fuck it. I'm going to fix you up no matter what. I reach up into Stan's medicine cabinet and pull out some cotton swabs, alcohol, and some band-aids. When I turn back to face you expression is confused and scared, but different then how you were before.

This time it's because you understand what I'm doing. When your gaze catches mine you turned away swiftly, red shame creeping up your cheeks as you try to bring your hood back over your head, "It's nothing, Kyle."

Usually I would be feeling ecstatic because you were saying my name, but this time only brought on a feeling of cold sobriety. I was touching on sensitive subjects.

Fuck it, "No, it's not nothing, Kenny."

You snap your head at me, anger rising and contorting your expression, "It's nothing, Kyle! I'm fine."

"Dude, the fuck? You're not fine! You've got a black eye and cuts all over you fucking face. And god knows how many other injuries you might have!"

You glare at me, and it really hurts, but I hold my ground. You move to get up but I just push you back down.

"Stay. I don't fucking care you want me to or not, I'm fixing you up right here, right now. So just fucking sit down and be good."

"Shut up! You don't give a fuck anyway, so just leave me the fuck alone!"

What? I stare at you, at your frustrated face, at your defensive pose, and the tears threatening to spill in your eyes. You think I don't care? When all I've been doing for the past few months has been worry about you, think about you, and obsess my life around you, and you think I don't care?

My hands shake as I clench and unclench my fists. I grit my teeth, "I do care."

I'm not looking at your face, my face feels hot, and my vision is blurry. Fucking shit. You are not about to make me cry.

I whip my head at you and stare straight into your eyes, "I do fucking care! All the fucking time! Every. Goddamn. Day."

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: Longer chappy than normal x3<br>_

_-An optimistic Burbs.))_


	8. Unimaginable Doom

**Unimaginable Doom**

I hate situations I can't control. They're the scarier than any chainsaw invested pit of certain death.

(yes I have been in chainsaw invested pits of death and more than once at that)

At least that can be predicted; it will be painful, but a kind of predictable excruciating painful.

Looking into his pissed face is scary. Much scarier than that. Listening to his aggressive sincerity is terrifying. I want to escape.

I really want to escape...!

The words rang into my ears whether I wanted them to or not, attacking my conscious and making an honest attempt on my life if I'd ever seen one. Maybe if I died you'd forget this entire conversation. Maybe if I ran you'd never talk to me again. Maybe if I cried you'd have mercy on me. Maybe if I pretended you'd believe me. Maybe if I pissed you off you'd be distracted.

And the words are back.

I don't believe it. I refuse to believe in something as nice as that. No one gives a flying crap about me, I'm convenient to have around on occasion and that's the grand total of my usefulness. People like me about as much as they like fucking Eric Cartman.

But the words don't go away and you're glaring at me like you dare me to refute your statement, like you'd happily kick my ass if I so much as tried.

What if he does care...?

I don't want someone to care! No way. That's way harder to control, to predict. I don't want someone to know me! I never thought I'd say this, but bring on the chainsaw invested pits of doom, at very least those are consistent!

"Don't!"

I don't know how the words escaped my stupid, big fat, mouth.

Your expression was a mixture of skeptical anger and...

My breath catches and all my intents to keep breathing fly out the window.

You look like you're going to cry. Your jaw is set so tightly that I fear you've frozen, your lips are in a tight angry line of defiance, and tears are sparkling in those green eyes.

My face hurts. My stomach hurts. My brain hurts. My heart is beating against my ribcage as if it intends to run away and elope with you without my consent.

And you look like you might cry.

Maybe I did it to piss you off and distract you, or maybe it was fear, fear that this might be real and not something that I can predict.

Maybe I did it because I always wanted those tear filled eyes to look at me and I was terrified of them looking away. Either way I sure as hell don't know why the fuck I did it.

Flinging myself at you I wrapped my arms around your neck, buried my face into your shoulder, and refused to let go. I can't let go. I want to hold on and feel how horrifyingly real this is.

Maybe I'm secretly masochistic and that's why I just jumped into the alligator den. Or maybe I just like the redheaded alligator with the attitude.

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: ...my attempt at wittiness... whoot... ugh... i feel sick<br>_

_-a sick Muse.))_


	9. Slanderous Accusation

**Slanderous Accusation  
><strong>

"I-I'm sorry." You cough weakly into my shoulder and my stomach clenches.

You say to not care and then you hug me and apologize? Your hug is more like clinging onto to me for dear life, but that fits in a way(as to why, I have no idea). I take long deep breaths as to not hyperventilate, and to the more pressing issue, to not start bawling my eyes out in front of you.

I'm just trying to patch you up, right? My mind nags me that this holds a more significant meaning. This is way more important than just wanting to bandage up a friend who got in some sort of accident. I don't even know how he got hurt!

My mind flashes to his drunken father, and all those times I've seen him come to school with a limp.

I feel in between homicide and barfing.

This is not some event that has no meaning. It has some sort of emotional value.

I look at your sandy blond hair and I realize for the first time that I haven't been thinking of you as one of my best friends, as just another one of the guys, or anything of the platonic variety.

I've been thinking about wanting to kiss you for Abraham's sake! I can't stand to look at you because I'm afraid of how I'll act, because I'm afraid that I'll break our friendship.

"Shut up! You don't give a fuck anyway, so just leave me the fuck alone!"

Avoiding you has only sprouted distrust and loneliness. I've only made you isolated. To be fucking honest? I'd rather spend the rest of my life hanging out with you until I start to fucking hating your guts than spend a day ignoring you.

I've been ignoring you for the past few months.

No wonder you think I don't care. I'm such a fuck-up.

Your hair smells wonderful and you're shaking as you hold me.

You're terrified too aren't you? Even if you don't feel the same way I feel about you, I definitely need to reach out to you. Even if I harbor more than platonic feelings for you, you're are still one of my best friends. You're not Stan, you're not Cartman.

You're Kenny. Kenny for gods sake.

And whether it be as a friend or something more, I still love you. I mean, we went to preschool together.

I've been an ass. Do you even have anyone being your friend right now? I know Stan hasn't been, and I seriously doubt that Cartman's been anything but a fucking asstard. Best friends? How are we best friends when we never are there for each other. When I picked you up earlier you weighed nothing. You're obviously malnourished, and what have we done for you? Nothing.

I've been ignoring you because I'm scared of what I might do?

I'm really starting to hate myself right now. I'm terrified out of my wits and I know you're crying because my shirt's getting wet and your erratic breathing. I'm not even holding you back.

I don't like this. I hate this. I wrap my arms tight around you and let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding in. And fuck, you know what? I really couldn't hold back that first tear. It wasn't a sob or a cry, my eyes were just leaking.

"I'm sorry I'm such a horrible friend, I'm sorry I've been ignoring you, I'm sorry." I rasp out fervidly, burying my face into your greasy hair. Whens the last time you bathed?

"I'm sorry I made you leave Eric, you didn't have to. I'm such an asshole."

Wait.

What?

Huh?

What does he even mean by that?

I mean, what the fuck does he mean by that?

I push him away, holding onto his shoulders and give him the biggest 'what the flying pancakes are you talking about?' look I can muster. "Why the fuck would I care about leaving Cartman? What does that even has to do with anything?"

I wanted to hurl again, but this time it was for a completely different reasons than before.

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: x3 oooooh, he didn't~! Shit just got real! For shiz... What will Kyle do? Barf? Heave? Bash his head repeatedly against the wall?<br>Try to rid himself of the brain damage that the statement caused? _

_I don't! 'Cause Muse is writing the next chappy! x3 Ah-haha!_

_(for the record I do like Kyman('cept K2's infinitely better x infinity(and beyond bitch)), I just think Kyle doesn't like it x3)  
><em>

_-a benevolent Burbs.))_


	10. Operation: Opposition

**Operation: Opposition  
><strong>

This is why I hate talking. When you talk, you let shit slip. When you let shit slip ze Mole kicks your ass for being a shitty agent.

(to be truthful he's usually too busy running from dogs to do that but Gregory will give you a really stern look that simply says "I knew I shouldn't have given the important job to an amateur.")

What the hell was it that Mole said to do if you ever said the wrong thing that would salvage the situation...?

Right, murder the witnesses. Shit.

Times like these I wish I wasn't such a loser. Actually more than anything I wish I was at home, curled up in my room, imagining hooters the size of my face...

What's even worse is I succeeded in pissing you off and it's only now that I realize that totally wasn't my intention by clamping onto you like a leach.

Hm... I am holding you by your neck and Mole did say strangulation is an excellent murder method. (no weapons to dispose of)

Taking this to heart I cling harder than before and hope that hugging tighter will make all my problems magically fly away.

...maybe I should just tear out my heart and let it elope with you since it's being so goddamn persistent...

"No, seriously Kenny, what the fuck does the retarded fat bastard have to do with anything?"

Stupid ginger bastard can't let me rest in peace... lousy jerk.

This is why I hate alligators!

(well that and their tendency to eat me alive)

"Kenny, answer my question goddammit!"

"Nothing! Eric doesn't have jack shit to do with anything other than being the center of your fucking attention for all of fucking eternity!" I pushed away and glared darkly at the boy through I'm sure tear filled eyes.

(but I assure you, this are now tears of annoyance... and maybe some frustration)

"Cartman is not the center of my-"

I slammed my hand over your mouth, "Yes he is goddammit! Everything you do links back to that fat evil bastard!" He glared and I glared harder, I know how I'm going to regain control of the situation.

Be more fucking aggressive than the asshole.

"I don't care why you do it! I don't care if you hate him or love him or want to kill him, it's always about fucking him!" I bit my bottom lip, half hoping to draw blood, and gave my final killer glare before finishing my rant, "What about fucking me?"

Aw shit... there goes my big fucking mouth again.

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: Burbs is a meany poopoo head x33 I think I managed well though~ sorry for the obligatory Christophe and Gregory plugs x3 they're so cool I couldn't resist! I swear that I will make their appearance make more sense... yes... a plan is already forming... excellent<br>_

_-a malevolent Muse.))_


	11. Maybe I'm Crazy

**Maybe I'm Crazy  
><strong>

You know what I said about you making completely unpredictable, right? It's all your fault, really. I wouldn't have done it if it hadn't been you. So I hold no liability to what I did. It was probably your face, or maybe it was the stomach-churning jealousy you had suddenly expressed about me and the person I hate most in the world, or maybe it was the just how fast this situation was accelerating.

I made it all crash down.

Tonight was probably when I just got completely fed up, just couldn't take how things were going. So I made a U-turn. Starting with hugging you and ending god knows when.

Maybe it was a bit of my fault.

But you still looked like you wanted to implode on yourself, and I really could sympathize with that, you make me feel like that all the time.

In the end, I just did it. I wasn't thinking, all my inhibitions were stripped and I made the scene came clamoring to a halt.

I kissed you.

Maybe you were a bit right about the fucking Cartman thing, maybe I've been paying way too much attention to the bastard then he even deserves.

But really, it was probably because he was always standing next to you. He was the easiest target to aim my drifting eyes to. I couldn't help but fight with him the second my eyes met his. It's absolutely repulsing that I had to look at his pudgy little face instead of yours.

Frustrated.

Maybe I did it because of how you said you didn't care about whether I loved him or not.

A part of me desperately wants you to care. I want to make you care.

After way too soon I pull away. Oh my fucking god I didn't want to. But my heart couldn't bare it any longer.

I must have looked nothing short of a tomato. My red hair and my bright red face.

Goddammit I don't care you make me into such a fucking dork. I can only hope that you like me despite it.

Remember what I said about the whole nine yards earlier.

Fine! Just fine!

"Then I'll make it all about you..."

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: ...anyone else notice that I update faster with reviews?<br>_

_-Le Burbs.))_


	12. Utterly Lost

**Utterly Lost  
><strong>

Let me quote Sheila Broflavski.

What, what WHAT?

No seriously, what the flying fucking monkeys on steroids filled with applesauce decided to drop me in _this_ particular pit of certain fucking death?

No... seriously... What. The. Fuck.

No, really, Manbearpig seriously, what in the fuck is going on?

Why, oh fucking why, are _you_, **you** of all people looking at me with _those _eyes? Because those eyes speak _volumes_ more than words _ever_ could. I take back everything I ever said against fucking retarded butterflies and even more stupid songs about eyes that could _somehow_, _magically_, transmit affection without verbal expression.

No, what?

Those eyes. Those fucking retarded-ly _gorgeous_ eyes that I could look at for fucking days and be a retarded idiot about it _changed_. No they _really_ changed. I have _never_ in _all_ my fucking life seen Kyle fucking Broflovski look at me like _that_!

What the fuck is with those eyes?

Oh breathing? It was nice knowing you, good luck in your job overseas?

Why, hello stomach. Enjoying your new neighbors the _butterflies of certain fucking doom_?

Heart! Oh it's _so _good to see you! Have fun eloping with whats-his-face. Las Vegas was it? Nice place.

And _hello_ eyes that hold the most terrifying thing I've seen in my entire fucking life. How are ya holding up? Good to hear that you've just _ripped_ _out my heart and sold it to Las fucking Vegas_! Hope you earned a good buck there.

Did I even mention that if those eyes left any room for question whats-so-ever (which they _so _don't) that the fact that you just... you just... to me... you...-and your voice! What the hell is wrong with your voice? Never heard that voice before, uh uh, nope, not in my life.

I think it was probably that stupid incredibly sexy promising voice that helped pack my hearts bags. Can't run away from home without packing some tampons because _apparently_ **I've turned into a complete and utter pussy**!

And he, you, that... you did _what _to me?

I think I felt tears build in my eyes but I couldn't quite tell if they were from terror, anger, sadness, or just a general overflow of emotions that were so far intermingled that it was hard to separate one from the other.

What was that sort of emotion called again? Oh right the dreaded 'L' word of terror!

I think I gulped.

I think the world span.

I think you looked vaguely victorious behind all the husky mighty glory of making me not find 'The Look Of Love' such a contrived song after all.

...stupid jerk, looking all victorious when I'm having a panic attack.

"About _what_?" finding my voice apparently had made me lose control of said voice and instead of calmly asking Kyle what the hell was going on and who hit my head so hard I'd landed into a goddamn coma, I was now blurting out what was on my mind.

_Lovely_.

You looked faintly annoyed, "Not what. Who. And _you_, all about _fucking you_, or do you have hearing problems?"

I think, if possible, my heart decided to visit from Vegas and was humming something along the lines of '_shut up and put your money where your mouth is_' while _beating the shit out of my poor ribcage 'cause obviously the poor bastard hadn't gotten enough abuse yet_.

"No, wha-wait-you..." I gulped and I think I grew a little insane in this last thirty seconds because all of sudden I really felt like I either wanted the world to explode randomly (probably the ploy of those monkeys I mentioned earlier) or for you to grab me and kiss me again. I kinda wanted to do the kissing but somehow I realized movement was not something I'd manage for awhile. You know with the whole internal organs taking a paid vacation and breathing being unthinkable.

"Wait, about _me_?"

I think the not breathing thing took it's impact on my voice because that squeak was almost way too high to be _human_, let alone masculine.

Note to self: No matter how sexy the alligator, they have _really_ sharp teeth. And apparently logic defying eyes.

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: Dude this chapter was so much fun to write x3333 I think I may have gone overboard with the song quotes but I couldn't resist it twas too fun x3<br>_

_-Le Muse.))_


	13. Completely Fearless

**Completely Fearless  
><strong>

I almost laughed at how cute you sounded. That sort of reaction was adorable. Frankly I don't care anymore if I'm saying another guy is adorable, the whole nine yards thing and all.

I sigh, "I give up..." I look at him and I can't help but _smile_. What the hell is wrong with me? I can't control myself for shit anymore. "_Yes_, about _you_."

You look like you might have shit yourself. I probably look like I'm on cloud nine, because goddammit I feel like it.

"Fuck Cartman."

You look confused.

"To be honest," My mouth hurts with how much I'm smiling, "I was only using him as a distraction."

You look more confused, "...from what?"

"You." I swear to god you made some sort of squeaking sound. You probably noticed it too because you looked mortified afterwards. And severely panicked. And lost.

You looked rather uncomfortable actually.

Maybe I'm not being clear enough. Maybe you're so dense that kissing you and saying I'm going to make my life surround around you is too abstract.

Maybe I'm really freaking you out, and you're too surprised right now to realize how disgusted you are with me right now.

_"What about fucking me?" _You said that. And I'm pretty sure you meant it too. I'm still fucking terrified right now though.

But I'm also so fucking happy.

You can't believe how happy I am right now (remember that bit about cold nine?). I cup your face in my hands and I don't even try to hid my dorky smile.

So when Cartman's annoying fucking knocking on the door interrupted us about how he ate too much Chiplotle, and busted in while we were still suspiciously close, and proceeded to make ridiculous comments about homosexuality, I didn't react how I'd normally would.

I laughed in his stupid face, I grabbed your hand, and I ran the fuck out of Stan's house, away from his stupid video game and taco party, and towards home.

This is probably the best day of my life.

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: Only one moar chappy to go! Whoot! This has been really fun to write x33 I'm really happy people liked this!<br>_

_-an artistic Burbs.))_


	14. Harmonious Nonsense

**How Could Something Be So Awesome?  
><strong>

I think it all just jarred something out of me that I really meant not to say but hell, if I couldn't even breathe on command, why the hell would I be able to speak?

So of course by not trying to restrict the words that forced their way out of my mouth while we ran for whatever fucking reason I was suddenly able to breathe.

"Ah, fuck it. I'm in love with you!"

And with the happiest fucking voice I've heard in awhile you replied with that same retarded-ly awesome voice that killed my soul in the best way.

"You get that only now?" and with a tug that honestly I don't think a person should have strength for you pulled me closer and looked at me with those horribly conspiratorial eyes, "I'm in fucking love with you too dimwit."

And the world exploded again but I didn't really care because I was _definitely_ getting some ginger tonight!

The End

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><p><em>((Ending Notes: Tis the end... how sad... ;A; I hope peeps liked it! BTW there's a secret code in the chapter titles X3<br>_

_-a satisfied Muse.))_


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